Abyss
by 1Past and Present1
Summary: Blaze and Silver investigate a series of murders whilst their lives threaten to unravel.
1. Chapter 1

"Detective?"

There is no reply.

"I was just wondering. Have… Have you ever, uh, hated yourself? Just a little?"

Still, there is no reply.

"Detective?" Silver turns blearily on his barstool to locate his companion, his sullen, beleaguered frown clumsily morphing into a compassionate smile.

Blaze breathes so deeply, he knows she is asleep, with her face hidden in the nest of her folded arms. The remains of her beer glimmer in the brown bottle, pretty under the lights. Her tail is curled around her lower body, around the legs of the barstool, as if she and the barstool are one organic being.

"A peculiar mermaid," he whispers, daring to reach over and brush some lint off of her shoulder.

She doesn't stir.

* * *

He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster.  
\- Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

 **Abyss**

Blaze carefully leans over the edge of the bathtub, coming face-to-face with the corpse.

"Looks familiar, huh? The handiwork."

"Unfortunately."

"I mean…" Silver pulls at his tie, dislodging it, leaving it askew. "If it is the same killer and not a copycat."

"Mm."

He feels stuffy in his normally comfortable suit. Prickly. Which is a peculiarly uncomfortable sensation, for a hedgehog. "I don't think I understand why anybody would want to copy a killer…"

"You'll probably continue to be surprised by the complex motives of people."

"Assuming it is the same guy, then…"

"Then this will be the fifth victim we've found in about two weeks." Her tail swishes in agitated thought. "Still no obvious connection between the victims, other than their apparent solitude. Unmarried. Living alone."

"Loners being targeted by somebody with a grudge, maybe." He takes in a short breath. "He looks about my age, Detective."

She slowly turns to look at Silver askance, her eye bright from above her shoulder, reassuring yet clinical. "I can take it from here, if you'd like to find someplace to sit down."

"No, Detective, I'm okay."

"You're looking pale, even for you."

He's feeling sick to his stomach. He wishes he could distract himself the pattern of the tiles on the walls, but when he isn't gazing into the depths of her eye, he's tracing an old scar – maybe a birthmark – on the brow of the corpse's youthful face instead.

* * *

Once outside, they reconsider the stern brick walls and dull grey windows of the high-rise building.

"What a small apartment."

"Mm."

Silver tugs on his tie, loosening it further. "Our victim doesn't look like he had deep pockets, sure…" The hedgehog swallows, then continues in a hoarser voice, "But it's still kind of sad to see how little space he had."

Blaze says a few quiet words to a uniformed officer.

"Isn't it absurd?"

She turns back to Silver, who stares at the window that he knows leads to the bathroom.

"I find it difficult to think about. Maybe it's just absurd to me, but…" His gaze suddenly drops, as if searching for something in the brickwork. "A tiny box. One of many tiny boxes – we often call them dingy apartments – stacked on top of and beside each other, divided into rooms within a bigger box. People, living in these tiny boxes. Barely any space to live."

"You mentioned your uncle's estate."

"Out in the countryside. Yes, I miss that place." Silver snaps out of his reverie, giving her a lopsided, forced grin. "Sorry, I shouldn't drift of when we're on a job."

"It's fine, so long as you continue to operate effectively."

"I'll try, Detective."

"I know you will." She gives him a brief, chaste, awkward pat on the shoulder.

He treasures it, his grin no longer forced.

* * *

The car is hot, so Blaze rolls down a window. "My apologies."

"Hmm?"

"This old girl has little in the way of comforts. The aircon is not working, today."

"Oh, no, please! It's a nice car. No problem!"

After a guttural spurt, the engine shakily purrs to life.

Silver remembers to clip in his seatbelt. "Thanks again for the lift."

"You're welcome."

"It's very nice of you."

"At least this still works." She reaches for the radio. "You don't mind?"

"Nope!"

She turns on the radio and is greeted by a weather forecast that predicts heavy rain over the weekend.

They gently accelerate.

* * *

"I feel that you have something on your mind," Blaze murmurs, turning down the volume of the radio, which was already low.

"You're right, Detective." Silver giggles to himself. "I mustn't forget how perceptive you are."

"You aren't particularly subtle."

"Ah. That, too."

"Would you like to talk about whatever it is that's bothering you?" She has an almost deep, slightly melodious voice, entirely soothing when she speaks kindly to him like this. He imagines she'd sound incredible all the time, if she weren't typically so deadpan and aloof.

"It's not… annoying, is it? My daydreaming?"

"It's not."

"That's good. I don't mean to annoy you, Detective."

"I know you don't. You're a nice kid."

"Kid," he repeats, followed by a sigh.

"What else is on your mind?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about the latest victim."

"Mm."

"Was he lonely, do you think?" Silver turns to look at her lovely yet handsome profile. "Aside from being a loner. Was he… lonely?"

"I'm not sure he was lonely. You could be surrounded by loved ones and still feel lonely. Living alone doesn't seem like a prerequisite for loneliness. Maybe he was happy."

"Yeah," says the hedgehog, partially unconvinced, bordering on evasive. "I guess you're right. Maybe he was."

"You're empathising again."

"Again?"

"I've noticed that you have a tendency to do that. But this time, you didn't just imagine the perspective of the victim. You saw yourself in the victim."

"Is it a bad thing?"

"I don't think so. But it does make me wonder about you."

"About me?"

"You're unmarried. You've told me you live alone. Are you lonely?"

He's blushing, he know he is.

"Was that too much, too soon, to ask?"

"N-no, Detective, I just… I'm not sure how to answer that."

"You don't have to." She nods respectfully. "But you should be careful."

His eyebrows slowly lower, framing his unusual eyes with confusion. "About empathising?"

"About empathising too much, if such a thing is even possible."

"I'll… I'll try to be careful, Detective."

* * *

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I should be more professional. More like you, Detective."

"No," Blaze replies a little more firmly than she'd intended, sliding the car into an open parking space.

The engine cuts off, dead.

She sits further back in her seat, blinks, clears her throat.

"Detective?"

"It's refreshing, in a way, to work with you, Silver."

"Really…?"

"You can be abrasive. Your social skills are about as terrible as mine. But your heart is big. It's in the right place. You're obviously capable of great compassion."

He wants to laugh, or cry, or something in-between. "Thank you, Detective! That's amazing, coming from you."

"This job can leave you feeling increasingly jaded over time. Part of me hopes you stay this compassionate. The other part hopes you won't have a nervous breakdown."

His elation evaporates.

"Let's get to the office. We've much work to do."


	2. Chapter 2

"Can I get you more coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"You don't mind if I…?"

"Go ahead."

"Okie dokie. Thanks!"

"Mm." Pen gripped between her eyeteeth, Blaze shuffles through official documents and unofficial scribbled notes, grimly paying mind to the pile of folders still waiting for her near the edge of her heavy wooden desk.

Silver whistles merrily from the neighbouring kitchenette, but some strange, subdued remnant of sadness radiates off him.

She pauses at a photograph. Then takes in a deep, soothing breath through her nose.

His whistle momentarily loses its key. He's evidently distracted by trying to twist open the jar of coffee.

Spitting out the pen, she thinks deeply about the young man's smile. Gazing distantly into the photograph, she imagines his voice, then shakes her head. Pushes her chair back.

"C'mon," Silver mutters, abandoning his tune. "Open up, you…!"

She stands, the photograph kept close to her chest, and turns away from her desk, from the paperwork, to briskly cross the room in strong, masculine strides. She stops before the board mounted on the wall. Reaches for a pin, tied to the end of a strand of red string.

The hedgehog finally twists the cap off of the jar, feeling satisfied and reasserted within himself. He then sets down the cap and takes up a spoon in its place. "Maybe I've told you this before," he says, speaking loudly over the roar of the boiling kettle, "but you'd think they'd have a bigger office for us, considering the important work we do!"

"Hmm."

"And we're pretty understaffed, too. Meh, money is tight, I guess. But our little team is great!" He chuckles. "And…" He feels his blush creeping upon him, shyly smiling at the kettle. "This way, I get to work more closely with you. We all do, but…"

She doesn't reply, although she hears him, dimly.

He tries to calm his thrumming heart with a gentle pat on the chest.

Her eyes traverse the board, the faces in the photographs, the red strings connecting them to snippets of places, relevant news clippings and scribbled, torn notes. The newest photograph is getting slightly crumpled in the grip of her slender hand, the point of the pin between her fingertips unsteady, gleaming.

"Actually, scratch what I said earlier about us having a bigger office to share. It's great just sharing this space with you." He rubs the back of his head bashfully. "But if anybody deserves to have a bigger office in this place, I think that somebody should be you. You should totally have your own office, Detective. A big office with a nice view."

"And my own pretty masseuse at the ready to rub this tension from my shoulders," she replies under her breath, pressing the photograph flat against an open space. "Wouldn't that be nice?" Finally, she pins the string to the edge of the photograph of the young man's face, then steps back, feeling small and insignificant under the looming mosaic of faces, the growing web of red strings.

Silver returns shortly thereafter with a steamy mug in his hand. About to say something friendly and cheerful, he falters when he sees her standing before the evidence board, her slim, straight back toward him.

"All these people."

He swallows saliva and tentatively approaches her. "Detective?"

"Sometimes, I wonder why I do this job."

"O-oh, that's easy!" He nervously laughs. "So you can stop the bad guys, of course. You're a hero."

"It isn't that simple, at least, I don't think it is." She turns to face him. "Those 'bad guys' are people, too, with complicated motivations." Her expression is stern, but her eyes communicate much more tenderly. "Motives we might never know. It seems convenient to vilify them, to dismiss them, but is it so simple?"

He feels vulnerable under her gaze, insufficient.

"Maybe those 'bad guys' are just people, people who hurt other people. That's what makes this scenario so hard to understand." She realises her voice is rougher than usual. "But I hope those 'bad guys' can change for the better. I cling to this hope."

"It could be good, I mean, to have hope."

"Still, it's so hard, because it seems so senseless."

He sees her move, feels her brush past him, briskly making her way back to her desk.

She sits down, cradling her head in one hand, reaching for another file with the other.

"We will catch this killer, Detective," Silver murmurs to the board, before adding more strongly, "I believe."

"You believe?"

"I believe we will catch this killer. I believe justice, somehow, will prevail. And if we're not the ones to enact just a slice of justice, then somehow, justice will prevail in another way. That's what I believe, too."

* * *

Silver's yawn draws Blaze out of her stupor.

"Go home. Get some rest."

He immediately regrets having shown weakness. "But there's still paperwork…"

"I can manage." She's firm, yet gentle. "It's been a long day. A long number of days."

"You staying here, working on your own… That's hardly fair, though."

"I won't be in the office for much longer. I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"But–"

"Catch a taxi, go home and rest. That's an order."

He doesn't argue further, rising to pack his things away in his neat little satchel. He glances her way, taking a moment to play with his loose, twisted tie.

She is poised over her work, biting that old pen again. Still, she manages to talk through it elegantly, coherently, saying, "I assume you have cab money."

"I do. But…"

"But?"

"Are you sure? I'm happy to stick by you and keep working."

"I told you before that I had given you an order. I'm sure."

He smiles a secret, sad smile at her and, with reluctance, turns to leave. "Goodnight, Detective."

"Goodnight, Silver." She waits to hear the door open and close, then waits some more. When his footsteps have receded downstairs, she deflates, losing much of her posture in the process. She collapses over her desk, a hand slapping down on the remaining paperwork to prevent its escape, and she bows her head into the nest of her folded arm. She closes her eyes and breathes.

The little clock on her desk ticks noisily.

"All those people." The words come out muffled. Try as she might to be blind, she sees their faces projected against her eyelids. She sees the irony, now, in warning Silver.

* * *

"Hi."

Blaze slides onto the barstool, her tail curling about herself. She attempts a quiet, modest smile at the bartender. "Hey."

"The usual?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"No problem, hon."

Her eyes trace the motions of a strong, voluptuous body as Rouge reaches for a glass at the back. "Your perfume."

The bat is listening, but gives little indication of paying even the slightest attention.

"It's different tonight."

An amused sound. "You noticed."

"I'm a detective." The cat tilts her head slightly. "And all these years later, you're a friend. Of course I noticed."

"I'm trying something new."

"I like it, but I like your old scent better."

"Only because it's familiar to you and you're evidently a lady who likes routine."

"I can be adventurous."

Rouge laughs quietly, deeply, from the belly outward, whilst filling the tall glass with amber from the tap.

"What's so funny?"

"You are, dear."

Blaze accepts the full glass that's eventually pushed her way.

The bat reaches for her cloth and begins polishing another glass.

"How stereotypical."

"That, and I like it when stuff gleams." Her aquamarine eyes are alert under dark lashes. "How are you?"

"Managing." The cat sighs. "How do I look?"

"Tired. Worn. Still cute."

"And you look indestructible, unfazed, gorgeous."

"I try."

"But how are you?"

Hesitation. "Not at my best. You've probably noticed these last few visits that my bar seems quieter than usual. It keeps getting a little quieter each night."

"Business has been hurt. It's still hurting."

"Yeah."

"The prejudice of some people." Warm eyes are sympathetic. "Has anyone been harassing you?"

"No. I've always been controversial in this city, hon. Mostly, people just avoid me, now. Even more than before."

Blaze lowers her head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"We've been trying to keep the investigation quiet."

"Amy Rose doesn't really 'do' quiet, though, does she?"

An aggravated sound. A growl, almost.

"Easy, kitten. She's young. Enthusiastic. I doubt she means any harm. She probably thinks she's a hero for keeping the public informed. She could be. To them, at least."

"Maybe. But she's sensational. Absurdly popular."

A womanly shrug, shoulders bare. "Seems she's just giving the people what they want. I can understand that. A story, something juicy and bitter to sink their anxious teeth into. I often sell something juicy and bitter to drown their sorrows in. It's just business."

"I guess so. So it's especially strange that she wasn't at the last crime scene."

"Oh?"

"At least, I didn't see her."

"Do you think she's avoiding you?"

"No. She's rather fearless. I'm no threat to her."

Rouge shrugs again. "Maybe her clairvoyance only works sometimes, then."

The cat groans.

The bat giggles. "What?"

"Do you really believe she's clairvoyant?"

"I dunno. She generally seems to appear at the right places and at the right times for her stories, though. It's uncanny. And she said as much in her article."

"I think she knows someone on the inside. Someone who is feeding her information. Maybe a common uniform. Maybe one of my guys."

"How intriguing."

"I've tried looking into it. Nobody's talking."

"Whoever it is, seems they're more loyal to Amy than they are to you, hon."

"Yes. The thought saddens me, somewhat."

"Then let's change the topic to something happier, hmm?"

"Right." The slightest of grins. "How are things with your platonic housemate?"

The mask momentarily disappears, replaced by a look of profound affection. "Shadow is Shadow. A lot like how you are you. He's been very supportive in his own funny way."

"He does seem to take care of you."

"I'm not sure what I'd do without him. Anyway." Rouge smirks. It used to be unsettling, but now the expression is vaguely comforting. "How's the newest addition to your unit? What's-his-name?"

"Silver." Blaze flexes her jaw. "He's doing fine."

"And?"

"He could be a great detective, given time."

"But right now, he's young. Inexperienced. And that bothers you."

"I hope he doesn't get crushed under the weight of our work."

* * *

"You haven't considered something… more?"

"More?"

"You've been tending this bar since the night I first met you."

"So?"

"Don't you want change? Something else?"

"Not really. Not right now, at least."

Blaze wants to say something, but refrains.

"Listen, darling."

She looks up.

Rouge leans over, resting heavily on her elbows, unmindful of her cleavage. "I'm fine, okay? The people are unhappy, sure, but I have every confidence in you. I believe you'll catch this guy."

The cat is reminded of Silver. It's surreal.

"And until then, I'm probably not about to retreat from the business I've poured my sweat and tears into just because of some social tension."

"If anyone threatens you, I want to know about it."

"Please, dear!" The bat smiles toothily."This is me you're talking to."

Bright eyes focus for a moment on those teeth. Sharp, curved, white fangs.

"I haven't forgotten my former kickboxing career. I can protect myself. Don't worry about me, m'kay?"

"But what about your business?"

"It's a little quiet, for now. Not about to close, though. I'm doing fine, see?"

"You won't consider at least leaving town for a while?"

"I'm no coward. Stop fussing over me. I'm keeping it together."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be. I can't see into the future, but I have tried to prepare myself for whatever might happen."

"I don't want this to hurt you."

"You've got enough on your plate. I appreciate your compassion, lovely, but leave me to my plate. Okay? I won't have you taking on my problems in addition to yours."

"But my work is causing you grief."

"No. The reactions of some people are causing me grief. Not you, not what you do."

Blaze sighs, defeated, but impressed. "Just stay safe, okay?"

Rouge's facial features soften. "Chivalry still lives in you." She reaches over to fondly cup a silky jaw. "How are you still single?"

"I've been told I'm married to my work."

"Maybe it's you who should consider a change."

"I don't want to quit."

"Then don't. But consider taking a break."

"Too much to do. Don't want this to defeat me."

"You sound like me, eh?"

"Maybe I'm as stubborn as you."

"Possibly, yes."


	3. Chapter 3

Silver turns in his seat to look at his colleague, garnering a mixed reaction from within himself. Although he admires how neat and orderly Blaze seems, especially this early in the morning, he also can't help but sympathetically trace the tired shadows under her eyes and the lines of stress in her brow.

For now, she keeps her steely gaze on the road and her hands on the steering wheel. She tries to focus beyond herself, on what she deems more important.

The radio plays meaningless, crooning noise.

"Detective?"

She blinks. "Mm?"

"On the way, could I get you some coffee and maybe a little something to eat?" He attempts a smile. "My treat."

Her jaw grows visibly tight, as if she is biting down on a hard, harsh word.

"It's just that I'm still a little sleepy," he adds in a friendly tone, hoping to ease her discomfort, to make her think he does not pity her. "And I'm a little hungry, too. We headed out so early, got the call so suddenly, that I didn't have time to sort myself out back at home."

She drums her fingertips over the steering wheel.

"We could stop at a drive-through if that's okay. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Yeah. Let's do that."

* * *

"In some ways, this seems like a dream."

Blaze drinks coffee from a cardboard cup.

"Me, getting to work alongside you." Silver takes a bite from his toasted sandwich, chews for a bit, then swallows before continuing with a smile, "A dream come true."

"Oh, really?"

"Really!"

"I've been told I'm a difficult person. That being abrasive is one of my quirks."

"I've been called difficult, too. I have my quirks. We all do." Silver hesitates, then offers timidly, "I like you, anyway."

"Can I ask why?"

"There are a lot of reasons. Mostly, though, you're a great detective. And a hero."

"Hero?"

"To me and to this city."

"Hero is a strong word."

"You work to keep the people safe, within the bounds of the law. Doesn't that make you a hero?"

"I haven't really thought of myself that way."

"You're modest like that."

"You flatter me."

"I mean it, though. You're a great detective, and you're a hero. My hero." He shyly grins at his breakfast. "You embody almost everything I want to be, someday."

She opens her mouth, then closes it, apparently speechless.

He senses something strange, a change in the atmosphere, and his grin vanishes. He worries he might've said too much. "Detective?"

"You're so naïve, Silver."

"I, uh, I guess I am. Have you told me this before?"

"Maybe," she murmurs huskily. "You're very naïve, but I've grown to like that about you."

His heart skips a beat.

* * *

"Don't put me on a pedestal."

"Detective?"

"I can't guarantee that I won't disappoint you. I can fail. I'm far from perfect. You need to be okay with that."

They lapse into uneasy silence for the rest of the drive.

* * *

"At a glance, there's little evidence here of a struggle. No overturned furniture, no torn clothing, no scattered belongings."

"Yeah. She seems to have been easily pinned down, not violently subdued – at least, not at first. Even the bed sheets and pillows are hardly disturbed. It's almost as if she just let the killer have their way with her." A sigh. "All the murders have been like that, Detective. As if the victims just didn't fight back."

Gazing upon the partially undressed body, Blaze suddenly has a headache and an unsettling sensation in her gut.

"She's so young…" Silver studies the delicate steel charms that dangle from the chain fastened around the corpse's rigid, pale wrist. "A little younger than me, Detective."

The cat reaches for the tweezers, then gently takes up a cold hand, searching under the fingernails for evidence.

"See anything?"

"Nothing apparent. We can take a closer look at the lab."

"Hopefully, we'll actually find something this time."

Gently setting down the corpse's hand, Blaze glances aside, eyeing an open bottle of red wine that stands on a bedside cabinet between two upright, stained glasses. "What happened here likely did not start out as an invasion of her home. Looks like this was a social occasion."

"And the killer might've been invited over for… whatever it was they had discussed doing. Considering the setting, it's likely it wasn't murder that this girl had on her mind." The hedgehog grits his teeth. "Then again, maybe the killer wasn't invited at all, or didn't come alone."

"You're thinking there was an accomplice."

"Somebody she trusted, yeah, who likely seduced her, got on top of her, and kept her distracted and docile long enough not to make a scene before the killer struck. I mean, the handiwork looks familiar, but the circumstances are strange. This isn't quite like the other murders. What if the killer wasn't alone in doing this to her?"

"The killer has shown no express sexual inclinations toward their victims before, certainly. But, then again, there's been little evidence of the killer having an accomplice before, either. And the logistics of what you suggested seem awkward and clumsy."

"Maybe… this isn't the same killer at all, then. A copycat with a different, more sexual motive, do you think?"

"Either that, or the killer treated this young lady as a special project deserving of special treatment."

Silver makes an agitated, disgusted noise. "I shudder to think."

"And this likely wasn't the first time." Blaze gestures calmly with a gloved fingertip. "Look here."

"Yes, I see." He reaches cross a bare shoulder, hovering over pale scars. "Similar, less serious injuries. Hmm. But it's possible these older wounds weren't inflicted by the killer. She could have a history of abuse or self-harm."

"Except some of these bite marks are situated in places she couldn't have reached on her own. Here, on her shoulder, for example."

"Then, assuming these scars were left by the killer, we can't rule out that…"

"That the killer might've known her a while beforehand." The cat lowers her head. "This may have been a relationship, of some sort."

"And eventually, things between them escalated to murder." The hedgehog pauses for a shaky breath. "Like the killer grew bored with her, or lost control this time, or knew she was considering walking out on whatever it was they had."

"She was likely groomed. Prepared."

"I don't think this was the result of some sick fetish on her side. It's more likely that she was lonely or young or in some other way vulnerable, and that the killer picked on her and messed with her head over time, convincing her that this was okay, or that it was normal, or that she somehow deserved it." Silver doesn't hide any of his bitterness. It seeps into his voice like poison, making him sound strange. "Are you really sure this killer is a person, Detective, and not just a monster wearing a person's skin?"

Blaze wishes she could distract herself in the pattern of the bed-covers.


	4. Chapter 4

"Idiot," Silver mutters, unintentionally thinking aloud. It takes him a moment to realise his mistake. He sharply lifts his head, meeting Blaze's calm gaze with embarrassment. "O-oh!"

"Who is the idiot?"

"N-not you, Detective!"

"I'm glad to hear that," is her mild, amused reply from her desk. It's a relief just to have him say something, finally.

"Uhh…" He recovers, glancing down at the magazine beside his sandwich. "That actor guy."

"I know a few of those."

"Blue hedgehog. Runs around at high speeds. Fights people in robot costumes." A chuckle. "He's got a fox sidekick I sympathise with, because people call him a freak for being different." Too much information, Silver reminds himself whilst chuckling nervously, now. "The fox flies with his tails. The bad guy has an incredible moustache."

"You mean Sonic."

"Yeah, that one. Total moron."

"His sidekick is Tails."

"Eh, right."

"And the villain is Eggman."

"You, um, watch this show?"

A shy nod.

"That's kind of endearing, Detective."

She clears her throat. "What makes Sonic idiotic?"

"Doesn't strike me as the smart type."

"Evidently?"

"Besides that, this interview makes him sound so full of himself, it's unreal."

"Oh?"

"Like his pretend heroics are somehow actually making the world a better place and so he deserves to have his own show. Like we should all be thanking him. Like Tails played no part."

"I doubt Sonic means any harm."

"Maybe not, but it bugs me, anyway. The interview outright calls him a hero! I mean, for what? And what about Tails or the other characters?"

"Maybe Sonic inspires people."

"Maybe this interview is biased." An aggravated huff. "Keeps calling him 'handsome' and there's a lot of focus on his eyes. Are they really so great, Detective?"

She feels her temperature rise, much of the heat sourced in each cheek.

"He doesn't even take admiration with any modesty! He seemed full of himself in his own show, not that I've seen much of it, but it looks like that's actually the way he is. Arrogant and pampered."

"Ah."

Silver grumbles a few more additions before saying legibly, and with disdain made clearer by the roll of his bright eyes, "He's got another season of that rubbish upcoming. Ha, so much for art, right? Apparently, the audience loves him. Children, I could understand. But so many adoring, adult fans?"

"You… dislike Sonic's show."

"I dislike Sonic's goofy, arrogant face, too. Green eyes included. Who even wrote this? Wow, Amy Rose?"

"Amy Rose?"

"Amy Rose! She ditched the crime scenes to interview and write about Sonic?"

Blaze doesn't know how to respond. Instead she inadvertently stares, watching her coworker become uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

"Um, about what I said earlier."

"Huh?"

"If you like the show, that's fine." Silver fidgets with the sleeve of his suit, awkward. He assumes he has upset her.

"You know, I can run like Sonic."

"Oh, yeah!" The pale, telekinetic hedgehog is suddenly excited, grinning, relieved not to have insulted the cat. "I've seen photographs of the impressions of your footsteps, on fire!"

"Mm."

"I hope I get to see you run in person, someday! That'd be incredible!"

"I could carry you."

He almost chokes.

"But I don't run much, nowadays."

"Oh."

She regrets talking.

"Not even in your free time?"

"I'm tired in my free time." Why does she keep talking?

"Maybe you could try getting more rest? More sleep?"

She grits her teeth, visible only as a subtle tensing of her jaw. Shutting herself up.

He assesses her closely, despite the distance between them.

She is unbothered by this, for some reason.

"You don't mean physically tired, do you, Detective?"

Her jaw relaxes.

"It's something deeper than that."

"I'm not free, like he is."

"Why not?"

"I feel heavy inside. Too heavy to run, most of the time."

Silver blinks, processing this admission.

"That's what I like about Sonic, though. He allows me to dream. To imagine myself to be someone like him."

"Someone not-heavy."

"Yes."

Silence, for another moment.

"I think I could run, again, for you."

Silence, again.

"Detective."

"Silver."

"You're better than Sonic."

"Thank you."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"No."

"You deserve your own show. And I'd watch it. And it'd be awesome."

It's their lunchbreak and they're having it inside on account of the rain.

* * *

"Th-thank you so, so much for agreeing to meet me, S-Sonic."

"Not a problem. Happy to. Say, do you always stutter, or is it just me?"

"J-just you! Hahahahaha!"

"Heh. Flattered."

"Really?!"

"Sure! By the way, love the dress. Really brings out your quills."

"Hahahahaha! Aaaah…"

His eyes are surely the loveliest green. His smile, surely, the whitest and most perfect of smiles. His manner assertive and yet, surely, the epitome of gentlemanliness.

Amy is weak at the knees just being close enough to smell his cologne. This interview – the pinnacle of her journalistic career, is close enough to a date that she wonders if it might lead to more. He's so… dreamy! So… charming!

He is quick to pull out a chair, too. "After you."

She collapses into it, mumbling her womanly gratitude.

He snaps his fingers for the waitron whilst casually taking his seat across from her. "Red or white?"

"I… I'd like a glass of red, please."

"I shoulda known." His eyebrows wiggle. "How 'bout the whole bottle?"

She fans herself with the menu. How is she to handle this? She's glad she wrote her questions down. She can hardly focus.

He barks the order and the waiter elegantly marches away, leaving them alone. The actor then leans over the table, pushing the floral centrepiece aside so she may give him her full, trembling attention. Allows a moment to pass before he coos, "Where'd you like to start?"

She drops her menu, rendered helpless by his wink.

* * *

"Why don't you have a car?"

"Seems wasteful for a guy like me. I don't need it and I don't like driving."

"You prefer public transport?"

"Sometimes. Other times, I walk. Other times, still, I levitate. Then there are times I travel with you." Silver pauses to shyly rub his cheek. "My favourite is the latter."

"Why?"

"Um, why?"

"Yes, why?"

"Uh. You're such pleasant company, Detective."

"I… appreciate you saying that, Silver."

He stares at the road ahead, hardly able to believe he said so much. But her gentle response relieves him, almost liberates him of some internal restraint.

"You are… charming, in your own way."

"Oh, yeah?" His heart is dancing.

"You're also very strong. Not in the stereotypical sense, although I'm sure you are physically fit, also." Blaze cringes internally. What is the matter with her?

"I'm… okay, I suppose. In the physical sense. Not a total athlete like you, though!"

They're in a nice neighbourhood with large, neat homes and green, trimmed lawns, children playing behind fences under the supervision of chatting neighbours. They'll reach his street, soon.

It reminds her of her own tiny, shabby apartment – a box, like he said, although he didn't know. He hasn't seen her box. Would he pity her, like he pitied the corpse?

How different their worlds are.

* * *

Shadow's eyes arrest Blaze from across the bar. Although generally a background fixture in Rouge's life, his visible presence is always a pleasant surprise.

The bat herself is chatting quietly to him, polishing a glass whilst he runs a cloth over the counter.

He nods as the approaching cat.

She smiles subtly back. Takes her usual seat at the counter. When Rouge doesn't stop talking the cat says pleasantly, "Hello, you two."

The bat, suddenly aware of the cat, makes a startled little sound before unexpectedly slapping the dark hedgehog's arm with the cloth.

Shadow grunts.

"Why didn't you tell me she'd been waiting?"

"Hardly. She only just arrived."

"You sure? She hasn't been quietly, patiently waiting for a drink for a minute or two whilst you stood there, handsomely letting me talk too much?"

"I know better than to interrupt you."

"Sorry for making you wait, kitten." Rouge adores him in her own abrasive way. It's what makes her smile so warmly when her cold eyes settle on his angular profile. "What can I get you tonight?"

"I'll have the usual."

With a quiet smirk he turns to retrieve a tall glass, leaving her to scowl with admiration at his backside.

"Is he giving you trouble?"

"Ugh. If he weren't so pretty, I'd not keep him."

"Humph."

Blaze is admiring him, too. Less brazenly.

"What if I fired you, handsome? Would you be so clever, then?"

"Technically, I'm not an employee, here," is his calm reply upon his return with a suitable glass, filling it at the tap.

The cat thanks him when the glass is pushed her way, their fingers momentarily brushing together.

"You think that because you're so incredibly handsome…"

"You've given him reason to feel such entitlement."

"What's wrong with a little positive reinforcement through the occasional compliment?"

The hedgehog returns to wiping the counter, his sinuous, purposeful movements unintentionally distracting.

"Well! Regardless!" The bat lowers her brows at the cat. "You're late."

"I'm usually late."

"But you're later than usual."

"My 'boss' gets fidgety when you aren't here."

"Stay out of this one, handsome. You're in trouble, remember?"

"Why?"

"Because!"

"Typical."

They're beautiful people. The type of beauty that sets them apart. Together, they're an intriguing, potent mystery Blaze has spent years mentally trying to untangle.

"Don't mind him." Satisfied with the gleam of the glass, Rouge sets it away before she tosses the cloth aside, leaning forward to murmur, "I think he's in need of a thorough spanking when we get home."

Shadow is evidently used to countering such threats with a quirk of his brow – whether they manifest themselves privately, or not.

* * *

The muffled sounds of a couple arguing next door. These thin walls afford little privacy – the arguing couple and rare complaints directed toward Blaze's hardly existent love-life would attest to that.

The cat reclines in her beat-up old chair with her eyes closed, her body naked, listening to their arguing. The old ache of loneliness is making her internally restless, but on the outside, she seems calmly asleep to it.

* * *

Silver stares down the length of the ridiculously large, empty dinner table, a glass of wine and its accompanying bottle beside him, his homemade dinner growing cold. He gets distracted picturing faces filling the seats.

His family members. Chatting, smiling, free of disappointment and disapproval, getting along for a change. Tossing him the compliments, wisdom, and encouragement he craves.

His solitary ex-girlfriend in that same outfit she wore the day she left him, trying not to cry, longing for his affection once more. Gratifying his crueller side.

The attractively androgynous face of his mentor, her bright eyes fixated upon him, untamed, communicating curiosity and desire. She says nothing because he cannot imagine what she'd say, to look at him so.

It's good enough for him to picture her like this, as if she finds him the most interesting and worthwhile person in the world. It makes him so happy inside. He really could do with more happiness. It's okay. It's fine. It's natural. There's nothing wrong, here.

The other faces gradually disappear.

Finally her image is the only one left.


	5. Chapter 5

"Gooood morning!"

Startled out of her mindless yet thoughtful contemplation of the tarmac roving beneath her scuffed running shoes, Blaze looks up and then aside, her piercing gaze discovering the source of the cheerful exclamation.

There is an unfamiliar lemur suddenly jogging beside the feline, smiling like there is nothing worth frowning about in this entire world, fur slick with sweat, eyes bright and friendly, lithe body flexing effortlessly beneath athletic attire.

She's beautiful, is Blaze's immediate conclusion as she mutters between pants, "Morning," with far more sombre reserve and some underlying bashfulness. Rouge was difficult to get used to at first, too. As was Amy. And the rest of them.

"I'm Tangle!"

"Blaze."

"Hey, Blaze, nice to meet you!"

"Um. Likewise, Tangle."

An externally comedic handshake whilst on the move.

Tangle's hand is smaller, stockier, and her grip is abrasive and strong.

Blaze's hand is feminine, elegant, soft and gentle yet warm, enveloping.

The lemur lets go first, but only after a squeeze.

The cat finds herself tracing the sensation afterward, over and over again, in her head, whilst taking a turn with the stranger bouncing alongside her.

"Lovely morning, huh?"

"Indeed."

"This your neighbourhood?"

"No, I only come here to run."

"Explains I haven't seen you around much."

Blaze raises a brow. "Much?"

"Oh!" Tangle loses an adorable amount of composure whilst grinning with such energetic enthusiasm "That sounded a little creepy, didn't it?"

"Somewhat…"

"I… I'm not, um, following you or anything."

"You aren't helping your case."

"Sorry! It's just… I've seen you run by my house on a bunch of mornings and I thought each time about how cool and interesting you look, but I never had the guts to run with you, talk to you, until…"

The cat slows down.

The lemur stumbles to comply.

They draw to a stop outside the entrance to the park. Panting and staring at each other.

"Don't get the wrong idea about me, please."

"I don't actually know you."

"I'd like to change that. If that's okay with you?"

Blaze sets her hands on her narrow hips, looking Tangle up and down with an intimidatingly blank expression despite catching breaths.

"I'm socially awkward and I frequently say socially awkward stuff and I only just got the courage to try running and talking with you, today, but I'm really harmless and I just–" Tangle suddenly grits her teeth, wincing, muttering through the expression, "Harmless? Did I really just say that? Ugh, now I totally look like a potential murderer."

"I'm actually a detective."

"What? Really?"

"Yes, and I don't feel threatened by you at all."

"That's… reassuring!" The lemur laughs sweetly, clumsily, wiping her brow on her arm. "I like to consider myself pretty harmless."

"Most of us do."

"That's… really profound!"

The cat shouldn't feel so flattered.

"And cool! See, I knew you'd be super interesting and smart and stuff! I just needed a chance to hear your voice and know your name and – I'm doing it again!"

"That's alright."

"Can… Can I, um, hang out with you a bit more? But if you'd prefer I buzz off, that is totally fine, too!"

Blaze gracefully turns, sweeping an arm toward the entrance to the park. A silent, gentlewomanly invitation.

Tangle blushes, shyly brushing herself off before trotting a few paces ahead. She tosses a glance backward, worried she misinterpreted, then reassured.

The cat catches up effortlessly.

"Am I slowing you down?"

"I'm slowing myself down voluntarily."

"'Cause I can see you're a fast one. You don't have to hold back, I'm kinda fast myself!"

"I can see you work out."

Both women are silent for several moments after that.

"That was very inappropriate of me and I sincerely apologise."

"You're socially awkward too, huh?"

"Terribly," Blaze says under a grunt, scowling at herself.

"That's awesome."

She turns to Tangle again, discovering a gentle, bright smirk.

"Something about you struck me the first time I saw you jog past my window. Something… heroic and… and…"

"And?"

"Sad," says the lemur more quietly, her smirk softening further. "Lonely and burdened with the world on your slender shoulders."

"This is a lot to tell someone you don't actually know."

"You have trustworthy eyes. I feel embarrassed, but also safe, making myself look stupid in front of you. I just hope you'll still wanna talk to me, after all my idiocies."

The cat exhales sharply. "That is one of the nicest compliments I've ever gotten."

"Hey, wanna race me to that big tree over there?"

"Sure. Get ready."

"Three… two… one… go!"

Blaze accelerates, kicking up dirt, flecks of flame alighting her footfalls.

In a hot gust Tangle is left behind, stunned and staring at nothing, then at the distant figure beside the tree, forgetting to run entirely.

The cat is amused, perhaps immodestly so, leaning against the firm trunk.

"Hey, that was incredible!"

"Hurry up!"

The lemur laughs and bolts forward in an impressive sprint, closing the distance with evident skill. She's fast, but not as fast.

None are as fast as Blaze, except perhaps for Sonic, if his speed is genuine outside of television. And that has, in a way, been a constant frustration. But the cat doesn't say so as Tangle reaches her.

The lemur is in a fit of giggles and pants, now, falling on the grass to sit with her back against the tree, gazing upward at her newfound companion.

Blaze stands over Tangle like a tower, a sentinel, lacking is curves but brimming with majesty.

The lemur, tomboyish, similarly wiry and charmingly cute, shyly pats the grass beside her.

The cat hesitates, but swallows her shyness and gracefully lowers herself to her knees beside the other.

"Thanks."

"What for?"

"For giving me a chance to maybe be your friend. A lotta people just… brush me off because I'm so… weird."

"Interesting."

"Mm?"

"I'd assume you to be popular. You aren't?"

"I'm aren't." Tangle is distracted by the velvety, almost seductive yet at the same time professional and aloof purr with which Blaze seems to naturally speak. "I mean, I'm not. Like… n-not popular."

Chuckling, the cat is similarly engaged by the lemur's unusual eyes.

"Wow, we've made strides already, huh?"

"Indeed. This is very strange for me."

"You aren't popular, either? But you're so… you!"

"I'm widely admired but very much by myself most of the time. I have only a few friends."

"Man, the world makes so little sense, sometimes, as much as I love living here."

"That's profound, too."

"Heh." Tangle is still blushing, drawing shapes across her thigh. "Thank you."

Blaze swallows, her throat a little tighter than usual.

"You… got plans later?"

"Not today, no."

"Wanna, uh, hang out some more?"

"Coffee sounds nice."

"Great! But I gotta warn you, caffeine makes me very bouncy."

* * *

It's the weekend.

Silver is at the office in secret. Blaze would be annoyed with him if she caught him working. He has caught her similarly as well and voiced his own displeasure. But today, he is alone with the evidence, digging for clues, trying to figure out the shape and face of the monster – perhaps more than one.

The cat's perfume lingers about her desk. She'd be furious if she knew he likes to nestle in her chair and breathe her in, when she's not around.

He hates himself for being unable to tell her. For feeling such things for someone so precious and important and beyond his reach. Someone who is, at least in his eyes, his mentor and superior and the woman he wishes he could have as his own, if only he could, if only she let him. To want and to be wanted.

She fills this office with such warmth. With her gone, the place is cold and barren, save for the paperwork, the evidence, pictures of places and the dead.

He wonders what it'd feel like, to have a monster bring its talons to his cheek, intending to kill, then shrink back in fire – to fall into her arms, wounded, and to shield her with his telekinesis when the killer lunges for her in its fury, sending it careening with a blast through a shattering window – to be pressed against her in the torn bedroom, the hostage alive and safe, blubbering gratitude – to meet the Detective's fierce eyes in the gloom – to embrace her, to kiss her, after it's all over.

Papers quiver in his grip. Her perfume fills his head.

* * *

"Odd."

"Hmm?"

"She's late."

"Oh."

In the moments that follow Rouge leans voluptuously forward and rests her handsome chin on the back of her hand, her cool eyes wandering across the bar again, piercing alluringly, dangerously, from beneath her heavy lashes. Her gaze, for all its power, inevitably returns to the door, seeking a feline shape.

"Blaze is fine."

"I know."

Shadow puts another perfectly polished glass in its proper place, then tosses the cloth over his shoulder. It lands on the opposite counter with stylish accuracy, allowing him to join his dearest friend unimpeded.

The bat sighs.

Settling close beside her, the hedgehog allows himself to subtly lean against her shoulder.

Rouge sighs again. "Thank you."

"You needn't thank me."

"You've got better things to do than mind me whilst I watch my business slowly die."

"Your safety is my top priority, actually."

"I…" She can still feel the bruise where a patron grabbed her. "I can protect myself." The animosity directed toward her has caused such incidents to become more frequent.

"I know."

"But I'm not a monster. I'm not the bloodsucker everybody thinks I am," she whispers, turning so that her lips are closer to his cheek. "They look at me, my pale fur and my fangs and my wings, and…"

Without comment he rests his head against hers as well.

"I never wanted their dumbass opinions and superstitions to get the better of me. But I'm not made of stone. Not even me."

He nuzzles her. A simple grazing of his stripe against her jaw. A chaste and momentary gesture filled with years of timidly growing intimacy and genuine affection he doesn't know how to express with words.

"It pisses me off. I haven't done anything and I'm suspicious because I exist the way I do."

He just lingers against her, listening.

With him so close to her, like this, she cannot remain angry. She is drawn helplessly into a sort of soothing lull and her body relaxes. She lifts herself protectively over his bowed head and places a kiss on one of his ears, then grumbles huskily, "Stop being so cute. Drunk people are looking at us."

He smirks, but withdraws.


End file.
